Chapter IX- Sugar Flowers
Eyes flickering open, Charlie welcomed the new day. After the initial phase of waking was over, when you forget where oneself is and all ones troubles, he smiled. Yesterday, which had started so badly had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Just thinking about the aftermath of the chocolate explosion filled him with that almost school-girl giddiness that wouldn't leave. The chocolate fight with Wonka was the most fun thing he had done in days- and after that, holding hands with him, it just couldn't be described with words.
x
Charlie and Wonka plodded up the stairs together, weighed down by the coating of chocolate that hung to their clothes. Although they'd left the fudge room long ago they still held hands. Neither of them particularly wanted to let go, and was in no hurry to do so, and in silent agreement they held on. While the hurried journey down to the fudge rooms didn't seem to go quick enough, Charlie found himself thinking the opposite here- he didn't want Wonka to leave. He briefly wondered what he was doing, and what the hell he was thinking, but this was all quickly washed away by another wave of giddiness as Wonka shifted his fingers in Charlie's grasp.
Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever and soon enough they were at the top of the stairs, Wonka was pulling his hands from Charlie's and pushing open the door. Charlie looked over the Chocolate Room disappointedly; it was only a short dream. As they crossed the meadow of swuldge Charlie began to worry a little about what his parents would do when he got back to the house- for Mr Bucket was sure to be back by now, and is with many other families the father is always the one to mete out punishment. He decided to voice his concerns to Wonka. "Do you think Mum'll kill me for getting chocolate all over my clothes Mr Wonka?"
The said person glanced over them and whistled ominously, "Chocolate is very hard to get out, believe me, I know from personal experience," he paused. "But I'm sure she'll understand, you were only helping me, and it's not as though you went swimming in the chocolate river for a lark or anything."
"Yeah… maybe. I reckon she'll still be mad though. I… uh, wasn't really allowed out of the house, even to come and help you. So I kinda'… ran off," he said sheepishly.
Still walking with the boy, Wonka stopped abruptly, "You disobeyed your mother… for me?" he asked in a stunned voice, knowing how Charlie hardly ever went against his parents wishes.
"Um, yeah," Charlie said, stopping as well.
Wonka grinned widely, "I knew you were my heir from the moment I saw you," and he ruffled Charlie's hair affectionately, setting forth again. "Don't worry kiddo, I'll explain what happened, and if they still want tah punish you for getting your clothes dirty, well then, I'll just tell them I pushed you in the chocolate river. They'll have to punish me then- if they can," he said with a wink, putting what was left of Charlie's worries to rest. The boy laughed, seeing a mental image of Wonka pushing him into the river and laughing evilly, all in cartoon style.
Walking up to the door with his mentor, Charlie hesitantly opened it, peeking inside, and feeling some of his nervousness come back. His mother and father were both there, facing the other way. Charlie was trying to resist the urge to shut the door and run in the opposite direction- a feeling he'd had a lot lately. Wonka however was having none of that, he opened the door the whole way and called aloud; "Package for Mr and Mrs Bucket! Did either of you order a chocolate Charlie?"
The two Buckets turned around to their very embarrassed son and their eyes widened at the sight of him and Wonka. "Certainly not," said Mrs Bucket, surprised, "I think I ordered just a regular Charlie."
Mr Bucket shook his head in exasperation, "What happened to you two? Did one of the machines blow up or something?"
"Actually, it was the chocolate pipe," said Wonka nonchalantly.
"Oh I see," said Mr Bucket, as if that sort of thing happened every day.
"Um…" Charlie began, looking up at his mother, "sorry I went off without your permission Mum, but I needed to help Mr Wonka- and we had to lift this pipe- and they were having trouble- and…" he rambled nervously.
Mrs Bucket studied her son, who was currently fiddling again with the hem of his jumper, "It's alright," she sighed at last, "but really, what's with you running off these days? I shall have to keep you on a leash from now on."
"I couldn't' have fixed it without him," Wonka piped in, raising a finger.
So Charlie was forgiven and sent to the bathroom to clean up (and told if he got the bathtub dirty he'd be back in there with a scrub-brush) as Wonka went back to his own quarters to wash, bemoaning the possible loss of his clothes.
When Charlie was chocolate-free and clean he sat down in front of the fire to dry, wrapped up in a big towel. Not that a fire was really necessary in the warm climate Wonka kept the factory in, even in winter ("His heating bills must be tremendous," Mr Bucket often remarked,) But Grandpa Joe often said he found a fire relaxing, and many of the others agreed. Soon after, Mrs Bucket came over to sit next to her son, and he smiled in greeting.
"Charlie," she said softly, so the others in the house wouldn't hear her, "I know this has been said to you before… but are you alright? So much has happened in the past few days, it's been crazy. What with your…Little roof visit, school today, and now this."
Charlie realised she didn't know the half of what was going on, but that was fine; mothers didn't have to know everything, after all. But he smiled at her anyway. "It's fine Mum, I'm happy." And he found those words were the truth.
x
"Happy…" Charlie whispered, sitting up in his bed, that smile still on his face. He felt as though the haze that had wrapped him tightly had now dissipated, now, looking out his window he could see the true and entire beauty of the Chocolate Room, unclouded by his troubles. He'd also come to some sort of decision about Wonka, it was wrong how he felt about him- but- what did it matter? He'd forgotten how much he liked spending time with his friend, he liked being with him, it made him happy. He just hadn't realised how happy until now. So he'd just take things as they came- for the moment at least.
Throwing the covers off him eagerly, Charlie prepared for the new day. He put on his casual clothes, or 'play clothes' as his mother had embarrassingly called them since he was young. He climbed down the ladder, jumping the three last rungs. "Morning Mum! Morning Dad!" he greeted his parents cheerfully, as they said hello back. He said good morning to each of his grandparents, finding Grandpa Joe in the kitchen making toast. "You look well today Grandpa," Charlie said.
"Thank you Charlie," said Grandpa Joe, "I am feeling rather well, you seem to be too. I'm glad you've cheered up," he commented, noticing the wide grin on the boy's face. "But why are you in those clothes? It's Tuesday, isn't it?"
Charlie's face wilted, "Oh… whoops," he said, "I forgot it was school." With a much more solemn expression he climbed back to his room to get on his school uniform, very much disappointed. He was looking forward to spending the day with Wonka, instead- he sighed- it was off to school with him, and no doubt Martin would be there causing as much grief as he possibly could. Charlie's heart sunk further. Still, Sam and Rowan would be there, and the latter of those two was going though exactly the same thing as he was.
As it turned out, Charlie managed to avoid Martin for most of the day as he was in different classes from in him all their lessons- except for science of course, which thankfully they didn't have on Tuesday. Martin and his friends did manage to catch up with them at lunch time though, as he, Sam and Rowan sat under the leafless pear tree in the courtyard. They came up to Charlie and his friends, sidling in like they didn't notice them, and then, in a mock surprised voice Martin said; "Oh my! I'm sorry; I didn't see you all there! I didn't mean to disturb your date!"
"Shove off Martin," said Sam, sick of the bully mocking his friends.
"Is this date some kind of threesome?" asked Martin slyly, "or are you just here to take the pictures, y'know, for an X rated website?"
Before things started to get hairy, miraculously, Mr Turkentine strolled in, "Hello there boys," he said, and turned to address Martin only. "Wonderful, I was just looking for someone reliable to deliver a message for me. Martin, could you head over to the new maths block, you know, the one on the other side of the school, and tell the teacher in M21 that she'll be covering for Mrs Farfetch in lesson six? The poor lady has gone home sick and we need someone to teach her English class."
Martin gave Mr Turkentine a sulky look and said, "Fine," knowing there was no way out of it without a very good excuse. He turned away, his friends tailing after.
Once out of earshot Rowan said, "I didn't think there was a M21 sir."
"There isn't. But he don't know that." He gave them all a playful wink and headed off whistling.
Sam shook his head, "Stark raving bonkers."
"He did just save our butts though," said Charlie.
"Let 'em try!" said Sam furiously, "Let 'em try!
The school day passed pretty much uneventfully after that, though Charlie thought he heard some wolf whistles directed at him in the corridor. Quickly, but not quickly enough for Charlie the day ended and he was soon walking back home to the factory, waving goodbye to Rowan and Sam. He came round the back entrance as he had always done since about a year ago, when a curious girl of five followed him through the front gate and almost got into the factory. Wonka had suggested they put lasers by the front gate to zap any unwelcome guests, but Charlie- waving his hands frantically- had said he'd just take the back entrance.
He wondered where Wonka would be this time of day, and decided the Inventing Room would be his best bet. Even if he wasn't there he could always ask one of the Oompa-Loompas since there were usually some busying themselves in something there.
Wonka was there as he thought he would be, rushing around quite animatedly. For a moment Charlie thought something was wrong, then he realized his mentor was just excited. He headed over to him, looking around curiously to see if he could spot the source of it. It was then Wonka noticed him, and the man ran up to Charlie and grasped his hands with excitement, "Charlie! It's finished!" he said quickly, happily. "I'd hoped you would come, do you want to see?"
With a mental snap Charlie realised what Wonka babbling on about, "The Bubbletastic Balls?" he asked.
"Of course! What else? Come, come now- I'll show you them, try one." He grabbed Charlie's wrist and rushed him over to a tray resting on top of a loudly humming machine, on it were several round balls, like Malteasers except bigger, like gobstoppers except smaller. Each one had the two curly W's that made up the inventor's initials.
Looking at the balls a little hesitantly, Charlie asked, "You've ran out all the tests? It won't send me to the ceiling like that Oompa Loompa?"
"No, no. Don't worry, it works perfectly now, I've tested it myself."
"The problem last time was that you made it too strong, right?"
"Yup! …I should have known I put too much soap in that one…" he said absently.
"Mr Wonka!"
He giggled, "Only kidding my boy, only kidding. Now c'mon, don't keep me waiting, try one and tell me what you think."
Not entirely convinced Wonka didn't slip some soap in when they were making the balls and working out the quantities of the ingredients, he picked one up and hesitantly popped it into his mouth. It didn't taste like soap, he thought, just chocolate. Nice chocolate- but that was to be expected, it was Wonka's. When he'd chewed and swallowed it he stood still, expecting bubbles to come spraying from his nose or mouth. When nothing happened, he looked at Wonka and said "It's not working," or rather, he would have done, but instead bubbles came flying out of his mouth and he laughed- which made even more.
Wonka grinned; pleased with his work and happy Charlie liked it. After about ten minutes when the bubbles had worn off and he could speak again Charlie said, "It's really good Mr Wonka, other kids will love it, and parents might too, since it keeps them quiet for a while."
"Its gunna be a big hit- we did a great job partner, now gimme a high five!" he raised his hand, though not too high, since Charlie might not be able to reach, and the boy slapped his hand. "If we start production of these immediately, all going well, they'll be in the shops with the month!" he said excitedly.
"We'd better get going then!" said Charlie, the mood infecting him as well.
"Right, I'll go and inform the Oompa-Loompas to rig the machines ready for them, we'll need to design the packaging and oh! There's so much to do!"
The week passed in a similar cycle. Charlie would go to school, avoid Martin (or at least try to) and come home, head straight to Wonka- where both would work their socks off preparing for the new product. Despite this Charlie never complained, the time he spent with Wonka was the best part of the day, neither of them could contain their excitement for the near completion of the Bubbletastic Balls.
"He's like a big kid in a big candy shop," Mrs Bucket remarked in amusement one day.
"The biggest candy shop in the world!" Charlie had replied.
Of course, there was the little matter that Charlie couldn't as much as go near the man without wanting to touch him, without wanting for the man to hold him, one day in the Inventing Room when Wonka had leaned down to look in a vat, Charlie had wondered in that brief moment what it would be like to kiss him. Would Wonka be any good at it? Would he be any good at it? What would Wonka have done if Charlie had leaned over in that instant and pressed his lips on the man's? He'd thought about it all day after that, until Grandpa George had told him to "Wipe that silly fool smile off your face!"
School was a different subject all together, as a typical child, he'd never much liked school anyway, he didn't have very many friends when he was at primary school, and he was often lonely in the playground. Now he had Rowan and Sam, but he had Martin too, who was being as much of a nuisance as ever, unrelenting in his attempts to drive the boys, especially Rowan, to misery. On Thursday he managed to find all three of them together again, standing inside dawdling by the corridors since it was cold outside. He set a beeline for them, walking over in his airy mocking way. They noticed he had his friends with him again like he always did, and Charlie was reminded of the groups of thugs that wandered the streets at night, beating up girls and stealing old ladies' handbags.
"Hello Sam, Charlie, Rowan," he said, nodding to each one in turn, "you guys still planning the wedding? Which one of you will wear the dress, Charlie, or Rowan? I'm guessing it's going to be Rowan."
Sam, always quick to temper, looked ready to pounce, Charlie glared at Martin, and Rowan, who usually ended up bearing the brunt of Martin's malicious verbal assaults looked angrier than Charlie had ever seen. The bully looked oddly pleased with this.
"Hello-o!" Cried a familiar voice, and Charlie's mouth dropped as Mr Turkentine strode once again towards them.
'Is he following me or something?' he wondered.
"There you are Martin! I was just looking for you! I need someone to deliver another message for me; I was hoping you could do it," said Mr Turkentine cheerfully.
"The last room you sent me to didn't exist, sir," Martin said, pronouncing his 'sir' like it was some kind of hateful insect, "there is no M21."
"M21? No, of course not, I never sent you to M21, I sent you to M16. Better clean your ears Martin, to think, Mrs Farfetch's class had no teacher… there was probably a riot there. You'll just have to do better this time- now listen. Go over to the music rooms and find Mr Stone, tell him I found his car keys and I've left them in the office with Miss Porter." Looking dubious, Martin nodded and walked off.
"Does Mr Stone exist sir?" asked Charlie.
"Oh yes, he exists. But he hasn't lost his keys. The man's in a bad state today, Toodles, his pet gerbil died, and he could use a shoulder to cry on. I'm sure Martin will fulfil that role wonderfully."
"Oh…" said Charlie, unsure of what to say.
"Well, I must get on, see you later boys- toodles! Oh… mustn't say that to Stone…"
After a moment of silence, Sam shook his head, "I know I've said this before, but that man is-"
"Stark raving bonkers," finished Charlie.
"I swear he's stalking us," said Sam.
"Knowing Mr Turkentine…" Rowan said, calm now, "he probably is," and they all laughed.
The following afternoon Charlie headed straight to the Inventing Room as was becoming normal. But to his surprise, Wonka wasn't there. He wondered if the man might be taking a rest, they had been working very hard this week, Wonka even more so, since he was at work while Charlie was at school, supervising the production of the Bubbletastic Balls and filling out the paperwork so he could sell them.
So instead he headed to the Chocolate Room, thinking to see his parents. He hadn't spoken with them much in the last few days, except in the evenings and by then he was too tired to say much. As soon as he stepped into the room he heard voices- were his parents outside? He followed the two voices, for he realised there were two, to the chocolate river, finding his father and Wonka sat on the swuldge conversing.
"-And so once I sign up for the course and- hopefully- pass I'll be a fully trained mechanic. I'm thinking of working self-employed, you know, putting up little signs in shop windows saying 'fix it with Bucket' or something like that," his father was telling the chocolatier enthusiastically, holding a piece of paper with typed print on it.
Charlie walked up to the pair, "Hi Dad, hi Mr Wonka," he said.
"Hullo there Charlie," said Wonka from down on the edible grass, "take a seat, your Dad was just telling me about the course he's planning on taking down at the college." Although Wonka's voice sounded normal, Charlie could instantly tell from his mentor's posture that the man was bored stiff- he'd known him for too long it seemed. He decided to save Wonka, and sat down between the two men.
"I thought you were a bit old to go to school again Dad," Charlie said.
Mr Bucket laughed, "The college does classes for adults Charlie,"
"I don't see why anyone would want to go back to school… or college, which is pretty much the same thing," said Charlie, wrinkling his nose like there was a big fat carrot in front of him.
Amused, Mr Bucket said, "I quite liked school when I was young, we used to have marble tournaments at lunch times. You'd play it by throwing your marbles into a circle like this," he demonstrated with his hand, "excellent times… excellent times…"
Not entirely convinced that sounded very fun, Charlie merely nodded. "I don't like school though," he said.
"That boy still giving you jip?" asked his father, as though reading Charlie's mind.
Charlie shrugged, "I suppose so."
"Your mother said she talked with your teacher and he'd agreed to keep an eye out for you," Mr Bucket commented thoughtfully.
Charlie let out a small "Oh…" now realising the reason Mr Turkentine always seemed to be following them, "We thought he was stalking us," he said laughing.
"Who's stalking you?" said Wonka, jumping back into the conversation with a jolt, he seemed to have been sitting in a complete daze before.
"A giant mutant rabbit, Mr Wonka," said Charlie seriously.
"Oh my," he said, "how dreadful."
Snickering, the boy waved his hands dismissively, "No one's stalking us, we just thought Mr Turkentine was since every time Martin comes over he runs in and makes an excuse that sends Martin halfway over the school to deliver a phoney message."
"Sounds like he's looking out for you," said Mr Bucket.
"I guess so!" said Charlie cheerfully.
"You're lucky to have such a nice teacher," said Wonka, "all the teachers at my school were old fuddy-duddies who punished you for putting one teeny tiny toe out of line. The children there were just as bad though."
"Did they tease you as well?" Charlie enquired.
Wonka scratched his chin, looking uncomfortable, "I had braces back then, big braces, and even as an adult, if you're different from everybody else, you're not accepted."
"So they were mean to you?" repeated Charlie, as the man hadn't really answered the question.
Wonka coughed, "Sorry Charlie, I didn't hear you- I think I must have too much fluff in my ear…" he twisted his little finger round in his ear, trying to dig out the stuff.
Mr Bucket gave Charlie an amused look, he stood up, still holding the piece of paper that Charlie realised now must be an application form for the college. "I'm going to go inside the house now, I have to fill this out, you coming Charlie? Or do you want to stay with Willy a bit longer?"
The boy deliberated, though he found there wasn't much to deliberate, "I'll stay with Mr Wonka a little longer." Mr Bucket nodded and walked through the swuldge towards the house, but then stopped, and turned back.
"I almost forgot, the wife says we're having spaghetti tonight, she asked if you'd like to join us Willy. She says she hasn't seen you for a few days since you've been so busy."
Inclining his head, Wonka said, "I'd love to," Mr Bucket ginned and then set off once again."He's very excited about becoming a mechanic," he added, watching the other man enter into the house.
"I don't blame him; I don't think I'd like to spend my entire life working in a toothpaste factory either. It's sounds re-eally boring."
"It probably is, he should have become a chocolatier like me- wait, maybe not… that means more competition," he narrowed his eyes comically, shifting them either way spying out the competition.
"So what did you come down here for Mr Wonka? I thought you'd be in the Inventing Room, but you weren't, so I gathered you were having a rest and came here."
"Well I was waiting for you of course," said Wonka, as though it was the most obvious thing ever.
"Waiting for me?" Charlie asked, nonplussed.
"Yes, to show you- oh! I haven't shown it you yet! What a silly Willy I am! Come over and see this Charlie," he bounced over to the other side of the chocolate river across the bridge to some large mushrooms, Charlie following. He leaned down by a leafy plant partially shaded by the mushrooms and pointed to it. His apprentice crouched down, a little confused to what the fuss was about and took a closer look. It didn't seem to be anything special, just a mass of leaves and a few unopened flower heads nestled within them. Then it struck him.
"I've never seen flowers in the room before," he said.
"Just touch one," whispered Wonka, beaming. So Charlie reached out and poked the side of a flower gently and quickly drew his hand back, gasping. It was like one of those nature programs they showed on television, where they film a flower and speed the tape up so it blooms and opens in just a few seconds. The open flower was a cute white shade, with a few flecks of pink and a middle of yellow. "It's a Christmas rose," Wonka said proudly.
"I didn't think roses bloomed in winter," said Charlie.
"These are Christmas roses- a different type. These ones do bloom in winter," and with that, he picked one, the largest, and held it out to his heir. Charlie blushed furiously, the idea of his mentor offering him a flower, and a romantic one at that- the rose- was almost too much for him. He was feeling giddy again. Wonka however, had a rather disappointed look on his face, "Don't you want to try it?" he said a little sadly.
Realising what a fool he'd just been, Charlie hastily took the flower from Wonka. It was candy of course, for a moment he had somehow got it in his head that they were real flowers, and that Wonka was offering him a real rose. However, he was merely asking the boy to taste it, he'd never be lucky enough to be given a real one- only in his dreams perhaps.
These thoughts were completely dismissed when he tasted it though, "Mnn!" he said approvingly, "White chocolate… and a little strawberry! Wow, that's amazing Mr Wonka, how'd you manage to get it to look so real and taste so good, or open on it's own like that?"
Wonka giggled with appreciation, "The stalk and all the leaves are all edible too, and they're made of sugar."
Charlie tried some, "So they are."
"You like it then?" asked Wonka eagerly, and Charlie nodded.
"It's really good," he commented, "But why use these roses? I thought people liked the look of normal roses best? You know, the ones you see given on Valentines Day and stuff like that? Or did you want to use these since the others don't bloom in winter?"
"Pretty much, but I like these, or any wild roses better than the cultivated sort. Not that I don't find them attractive, but I don't think people should interfere with things like that- nature is nature's business. Wild roses are so much purer." Charlie blinked, never expecting such meaningful words to come out of Wonka. It seemed he was finding new sides to the man every day.
"So… cultivated roses are made by people, right?" enquired Charlie, wondering just how much his mentor knew about botany.
"Yeah, they're hybrids, wild roses bred with other flowers to make the rose you 'see on Valentines day and stuff like that' I don't know the technical stuff behind it though."
They talked for a while after that, staying on the topic of flowers for a while, before switching to some of the ideas they'd been contemplating over the last few days. Charlie didn't know how long they talked, but it must have been a while, since Mrs Bucket came out while they were still jabbering on about all the different types of edible flower they could make.
"Dinner time Charlie!" she called from the open door of the house, "you too Willy!"
Charlie jumped up from his seat on the squashed swuldge, running ahead and shouting, "Yippee! Spaghetti!" Wonka walked over a bit more reservedly, but not by much. They all took at seat at the large table, talking and laughing, helping Grandpa George and Grandpa Josephine whose legs were a bit weak to their seats. Mrs Bucket dished out the spaghetti with a meat sauce she'd cooked up herself onto the warm plates and handed them out to everyone at the table, most of whom looking quite ravenous, sniffing the wafting smells with dreamy looks on their faces. When everyone had a plate and Mrs Bucket herself was sat down they thanked her and began to eat, murmuring approving noises at their chef.
The next few days passed like a blur to Charlie, each full of good memories. Charlie only wished it didn't all go so fast. He felt like he was on a speeding train to a location no one knew, along smooth tracks through calm air. But on Monday, there was a definite bump on the rails.
